


Out Of Your Side

by ampliflyer (withlightning)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Anti-Lockout Squee Fest, M/M, Switzerland
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withlightning/pseuds/ampliflyer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Patrick who tends to run away, tends to rush into things; it’s Jonny who stays behind and waits him out, patient and gentle enough to make Patrick ache.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out Of Your Side

“I’m going.”

Patrick’s standing in the hallway, his sneakers wet from the drenching rain outside. Rivulets of water are trickling down his neck and he swipes his palm against his eyes to smear the drops away from his lashes.

Jonny’s frozen on the other side of the threshold, hand still wrapped around the doorknob. 

“The deal’s done,” Patrick says. “So I’m going.”

Jonny’s face is carefully blank as he gestures at Patrick to come in, taking a few steps back. Patrick closes the door behind him and runs a hand through his too-long hair in a feeble attempt to get rid of the dampness.

Jonny’s holding himself still, at arm’s length, bare-footed and tall. “When –” he pauses and takes a small breath, crosses his arms against his chest as if hugging himself. “When are you leaving?”

“Sunday.”

Patrick swallows, thinks about getting to play again; getting to soar on the ice. Hockey is the wind beneath his wings, it’s the only thing he knows he has that no one can ever take away from him, the only thing that will keep making him happy even if everything else fails; hockey is his safe haven, the love of his goddamn miserable life. But it’s also the love of Jonny’s life, the love of both of their lives and they’ve been playing together for so long that Patrick doesn’t even want to think about time when Jonny wasn’t behind him or in front of him or on the side, helping him make history, helping him to be better than he ever imagined he could become. 

_Come with me_ , Patrick doesn't say but he knows Jonny hears it all the same, can see it on his face - because even if Patrick has learned to control his mouth and his actions, he's still fighting _himself_ when it comes to Jonny. By the way Jonny keeps staring at him, eyes dark and face pinched, it seems Patrick gets the message, can hear Jonny's voice loud and clear, _I can't_.

What Jonny says is, "I have to see this through," and Patrick knows this because he knows Jonny and Jonny's endless faith in making things right. Patrick knows he could never compete and that's fine because that's who Jonny is; he's righteous and loyal and it's hockey, hockey always in first place. Patrick can’t judge; he’s the one who isn’t staying because of hockey.

It’s Patrick who tends to run away, tends to rush into things; it’s Jonny who stays behind and waits him out, patient and gentle enough to make Patrick ache.

Jonny lifts his hand and it hovers for a moment near Patrick's shoulder; not quite touching but not giving up either. He looks tired all of a sudden but his eyes are huge, unblinking, and his gaze is somewhere near his hand, head bent a little.

"I wish—" Jonny starts, then stops to clear his throat, to swallow. But he doesn't continue, instead makes a small sound, biting down on his lip and then his warm hand lands on the curve of Patrick's shoulder and neck, touching the rain-chilled, slick skin. 

Patrick tries to keep his breathing calm, chest tightening painfully, because this is Jonny who he's leaving behind, Jonny who's watching Patrick go and that's not the way it's supposed to be. He’s used to being apart from Jonny but that was before he understood what it’s like to be in love with someone, to have the fierce need to be better, to be enough. 

Jonny’s hand slides higher, curls around the shape of Patrick’s neck, thumb moving to rest just under Patrick’s ear and he can’t help the shiver running down his spine because _jesus_ , it’s Jonny. To him it’s always Jonny and he thinks they both know it. 

The way Jonny keeps looking at him, half under his lashes, dark and sad and suddenly open makes Patrick’s skin feel too tight, too small for everything that’s inside him and fuck everything because this isn’t something he’s going to run away from, not anymore, not ever again; this is Jonny who’s brilliant and amazing and annoying as hell and the most best thing Patrick could ever hope having in his life and he’s not running away, he isn’t.

“I’m gonna come back,” he croaks through the lump in his throat because it’s something he has to say, to make sure Jonny hears it, even if it’s a given. It isn't as if he can't live without Jonny, it's just that he doesn't want to. But he chooses hockey. He’ll always choose hockey because that’s what they both choose. That’s who they are.

Jonny’s lips twist in a small, painful smile, and he says, “You better.”

And fuck it, but Patrick isn’t running so he stands taller and steels himself, takes a step forward because it’s been Jonny all this time - all these years - trying to make Patrick see and now it’s Patrick’s turn to show that he does.

Patrick’s toes are freezing inside his sneakers and his half-zipped hoodie is plastered against his back and Jonny’s eyes are staring back at him with wonder as his fingers find their way into Jonny’s hair. Patrick smiles then, softly, despite his heart trying to force its way through his ribcage, because christ, Jonny’s stupidly gorgeous even up close.

“I’m gonna come back,” Patrick says again because it bears repeating. 

Jonny makes the same sort of desperate noise again, closes his eyes and before Patrick knows it he’s pinned against the door and then they’re kissing. Jonny’s hand is still holding on at Patrick’s neck, the other clenching above Patrick’s hipbone, not quite hurting but not gentle either, and his lips are demanding Patrick to get with the program, to open up and _holy fuck_ , Patrick’s head is spinning and he gives up all thinking, rational or not and instead just tightens his own hold on Jonny.

It’s fierce, the way Jonny kisses him, hard and relentless and without regrets and Patrick gives Jonny everything, gives in and wants more, his skin tingling all over, fingers clutching as Jonny greedily swallows the sounds he makes unwillingly, forcing their way up his throat, leaving him raw and aching, and then Jonny’s pushing his thigh between Patrick’s, and the friction is so _good_ , it’s just shy of painful and perfect and not enough, nowhere near close enough— but then Jonny’s lifting his head, pulling back a bit and Patrick licks his lips; they’re tender and numb because of _Jonny_ , and it’s the best feeling ever.

“Pat,” Jonny says in an uneven voice and he’s shaking against Patrick’s chest, fighting the heaving breaths and touching Patrick’s forehead with his own. 

There isn’t an inch of space between them and Jonny’s body is warming up Patrick's. “Yeah?” He says when he comes down a bit, gets his brain working enough to get that this is still one of the most important moments in his life.

Jonny kisses him once, slow and long, pulls back again and says, “I’m seeing this through, too.”

Patrick kisses him again.

 

~*~

 

Patrick’s grabbing his training bag and patting down his pockets for keys, phone, and wallet as he rushes out of the door. He has practice skate in half an hour and he’s already running late. It’s earlier than should be legal, darker in central Europe than it would be back in Chicago in the early hours of the morning. He was on the phone way too late, long distance to the US about the latest twists and turns in the negotiations, giving his two cents and stating that Switzerland is good but nothing beats Chicago, and had trouble sleeping.

It’s snowing; nothing thick, just light flakes, but there’s enough to cover the ground until the sun comes up and melts everything. Patrick walks briskly around the block to reach his rental. He’s digging up the car keys when his phone starts ringing. 

It’s Jonny’s ring tone.

Patrick swings his bag on the back seat, stands beside the door and answers the call with a smile, lifting his head to watch the snow floating in the air. 

“It’s snowing,” he says, opening his mouth to catch a few flakes on his tongue.

The smile on Patrick’s face gets bigger when Jonny greets him fondly with, “Don’t eat the snow.”

“Right, I won’t,” he says and holds out his tongue for more flakes. It’s a long moment of silence and Patrick lifts he phone from his ear to see if they’re still on; they are. “Jonny? Everything okay?”

Patrick can hear Jonny exhale. “Yeah. Everything’s okay.” And then, “You’re gone.” 

Jonny waited it out, stayed behind. He was patient and now he’s gentle and all the negotiations came up empty, Patrick knows, week after week and whatever happens to him and Jonny, they’re on the same page, they have to be–

“I’m coming, okay? I’m coming.”

Patrick misses Jonny and he can’t stop smiling because it’s Jonny, and he says, “You better.”

**Author's Note:**

> A) I really do hope season 12-13 will happen. Damn I miss hockey.
> 
> B) Quick thing just because I felt like it, makes no sense. I apologize if you feel unsatisfied now that you finished. My bad.
> 
> C) Efficient beta by [Ninemoons42](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42). All the possible remaining mistakes are solely on me.


End file.
